Tuesday, July 21, 2015

beautiful poem.

what's living, if not about offering
life what it is one wants
from it? it is not, unless we have the

different story- the

enduring of life; limbo. they say
it gets better, and they tell you

to trust you when they say
it gets better. the sky lowers. i grab

a cloud-fluff, lifting into a sky
that is there for you, actively involved

in mediating struggles
as well as always overseeing.

love was never enough. love lives
face-pressed against glass wall and acts
like a drug from around

the block. love

is a discrepancy
yet to be figured out. it is always
taken personally.

love, you are too much of an emotional
purist for absolute worship.

the soul itself
is what constitutes my unconditional
the soul is the multiverse. i balance

in the present, stretching arms past either side
of it-seeking

whatever isn't wanting-

wanting, being that

obstacle i ought to see past; the longing
to navigate away from.

i may very well simply be

stretching my arms from myself,

knocked out of the awakening-function-
orgasm weak and hurt.

baby steps
toward introducing myself to
the innermost-desire: step one

of what i want from life:

i want
to meditate. seems fair.
get in touch with reality. without
ever wanting to leave it.